


The Blind Date

by KarenR2



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Blind Date, F/M, Fluff, single mom, unfortunate bachelor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-28 22:10:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5107439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarenR2/pseuds/KarenR2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Single mother Toriel was only here because her friends thought it was about time she got back 'in the game.' Unfortunate bachelor Sans was only here because Papyrus had enough of his jokes and thought that him getting a girlfriend would rightly fix him up.</p><p>Her friends were right. His brother was so horribly, horribly wrong. Soriel AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Blind Date

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic on this site, and it's for Soriel! Yes, I have fallen into soriel hell.

* * *

 

Toriel had never been so mortified in her life.

Well, perhaps she was exaggerating a little, but this was definitely not one of her proudest moments. This was going so horribly. How could she have let herself be convinced to do this? A memory passed through her mind’s eye, of a bright and innocent gaze and the almost pleading tug of her dress by a tiny, gentle hand. Stern she had been when Undyne and Alphys had (very enthusiastically and timidly, respectively) suggested this… _activity_ to her, but weakened and defeated she was when her child murmured that they only wanted her to be happy.

Oh, she tried to convince her little one that she _was_ happy, but they were determined to see that she be at _maximum_ happiness. And apparently, the child had the idea stuck in their head that her being with a partner would achieve that.

Hence why she was here.

On this blind date.

Hosted by a company called FindingYourMonsterMate™—

guaranteed to be at least a _little_ bit fun with a special, unique system that combined blind dating and speed dating into one glorious, life-changing event of romance and mystery.

Toriel stared blankly at the meshed metal screen in front of her, trying to imagine a face to the voice that stammered from the other side. From the occasional, high-pitched cracks and the rambles of a ‘video game’ she’d never heard of, Toriel imagined a person far too young for her. She shook her head and rested her chin on the palm of her hand, tapping her cheek as she listened.

“—a really c-cool guy, I think, and I watch his streams all the time, and it’d b-be neat if you also liked them too, um, so we can maybe watch them t-together or—”

“Dear,” the goat monster interrupted gently, and the voice immediately shut up. “You sound like a very nice boy, but I can tell you already that I am far too old for you.”

An awkward pause. “O-Oh.”

In a calm and patient tone, she assured, “You sound lovely, however, and this ‘MonStream’ sounds very exciting. I’m sure you’ll find someone to share that joy with.” Toriel wondered how he even got into this event. Alphys had assured her that they signed her up for a specified, targeted age group.

“… But, um,” came the voice again, Toriel quirking an eyebrow at their continued nervousness, “y-you don’t like younger guys?”

“… I don’t mind a younger partner.”

“B-But I’m too young? You don’t even know my age.”

Toriel frowned. “Well, no, I do not; however, you sound—”

“Because if you’re shy, d-don’t worry! I-I”—a heavy gulp—“I l-like older women! T-That’s why I-I’m here…”

Oh.

… _Oh_.

“… Oh.”

“Um, yeah…”

Silence ensued and Toriel couldn’t have been more embarrassed. She was grateful for the barricade between them because she wouldn’t have been able to stand them seeing her flustered expression. Goodness! Youths these days! They were quite bold, weren’t they? Toriel’s shock lasted for far longer than what was natural or comfortable, and she shakily released a laugh to diffuse the tension; she hoped it didn’t sound forced.  She self-consciously drummed her fingers against the cloth-covered table and opened her mouth to respond—

_Ting ting!_

The bell sounded, much to her relief.

“A-Ah, our ten minutes are up already?” said the voice. “I-It was nice meeting you! Er, t-talking with you! Ah, g-goodbye!”

Toriel didn’t know how she managed it, but she somehow responded with a “Same to you, dear” before she heard the scuffling of footsteps walking away from her table. She sighed very, very deeply. That was her first ‘date’ for the night and she had five more to go.

She heard a chair being scraped against the floor as someone from the other side sat down.

_Ting ting!_

“So,” said the deep, disembodied voice—

(The person who spoke sounded older than the last one, definitely.)

“—I wake up every morning and do two hundred squats, and go to gym in the evening to bench-press until my whole body is soaked with glorious, self-satisfied sweat of achievement and relentless progress. How do you like the sound of you, me, long walks on the beach, and gym dates?”

Toriel buried her face in her hands.

* * *

 

Meanwhile, a little, round skeleton was trying to make the best of things.

“Knock, knock!”

“…”

“Come on, darl’. Knock, knock.”

“… Um, who’s there?”

“Iva.”

“… Iva who?”

“Iva sore hand from knocking; you took so long to answer!”

Sans howled to himself while the person on the other side of the screen remained dead silent. After a brief moment, there was a cough and then a forced out laugh.

“Heh, good one. So my name’s—”

The skeleton interrupted the feminine voice by saying, “Sorry, sorry, I was being a _pick_.”

A hesitant pause and then, “Huh? Oh, um, it’s quite fine—”

“I couldn’t help but _break the ice_!”

“…”

“Get it? An ice pick? _Eh_?”

“… Haha. Yes. Very clever. So, um, what’s your name...?”

Sans laid back in his chair and grinned at the makeshift wall in front of him. “I told you already—it’s Iva.”

“O-Oh! Sorry, I thought that was a joke—”

“Not surprised! Because _Iva_ knack for jokes!”

The voice started to sound quite peevish then. “Well, I’m not finding these very funny. Are you _here_ as a joke too?”

Sans hummed and linked his boney fingers behind his skull. “Well, no—not in the literal sense,” he disclosed. “I’m here because my brother forced me to. He’s obsessed with me finding a girlfriend for some reason.”

“Really…”

The skeleton chuckled to himself. “Yeah. I think he just wants me out of the house more.”

“I can’t imagine why.” The sarcasm was heavy and thick.

“Aw, you’re breaking my _heart_ here.”

“…”

“… Would it be funnier if I told you that I’m a skeleton and actually don’t have a heart to break?”

“No, not really.”

“You don’t seem to like my jokes.”

The voice was pretty cold now. “I don’t, actually.”

“So I guess if I keep them coming…” Sans drawled lazily, “… I’d be _digging my own grave_?”

There was a noise of disgust from the other side and Sans laughed silently to himself. He wondered if he should be feeling a little bad for annoying the other person right at the get-go, but honestly—the lady needed to lighten up a little.

_Ting ting!_

“Oh, it’s _bell_ a pleasure! Good luck for the rest of the night—seriously.” Sans got up to leave and wasn’t surprised when he didn’t hear an answer from the other side.

He walked out of the cubicle and moved to the next one on the right. These ‘dating cubicles’ were squared off using wall dividers, separating each couple from each other and ensuring that no one was actually able to see another person. Sans walked up to the standard table (covered in a white sheet with wooden legs sticking out of it) and sat down. Once again, his partner was barred from his sight by a screen that looked like it split the table into two. He didn’t know _how_ it was possible for them to not even see a _blurred_ view through the meshed screen or have a decent conversation without it being muffled, but that was what magic was for, he guessed.

In his honest opinion, this whole set up seemed very lonely and claustrophobic. How was this environment supposed to encourage ‘naturalness’? Papyrus had told him that this dating technique would make sure that people connected on the basis of chemistry and personality, but Sans was doubtful.

Oh well. It wasn’t like Sans had high hopes for this night, anyway. He was here to indulge his brother’s wishes and, if he could, get a laugh.

_Ting ting!_

“Knock, knock!” Sans greeted.

“Um, hi!” said the voice from the other side, sounding quite excited.

The skeleton chuckled quietly to himself and said lightly, “It was the beginning of a joke. You’re meant to ask ‘who’s there?’”

“… Oh! I’m sorry! Let’s go again then!”

“Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Annie.”

“Annie?” asked the other voice, confused. “But that’s a girl’s name! You sound like a guy!”

Sans's smile began to fall. “It’s, um, part of the joke. You’re meant to ask me ‘Annie who?’”

“… Ooooh! Ah, sorry, I messed up again! Can you repeat what you said then?”

Sans felt a bit put-off by his joke not being executed smoothly, but he managed to say again, “Annie.”

“Annie who?”

Sans forced out a cheerful, “ _Annie_ one you like!”

There was silence.

And then there was a holler of laughter that grated on Sans’s earholes, because it was forced and squeaky and fake. “AHAHA! _Any one_ I like! That’s a good one!” Sans face twisted into a grimace. “My turn!” then said the voice. “Knock, knock!”

The skeleton, feeling a tad hopeful, asked, “Who’s there?”

“Isabelle!”

“Isabelle who?”

“… Um, just Isabelle. I think in the rules it said that we can’t give out our last names, so…”

Sans stared at the wall blankly and was glad that the other person couldn’t see his disappointed, deadpan face. “You’re right,” he said, hiding a sigh. “Sorry, I forgot.”

He attempted to tell her another joke, but the resulting fake laughter made him terribly disinclined to make the same mistake again. He was grateful when he heard the toil of a bell.

_Ting ting!_

The next one wasn’t so bad.

“… and said I’ll _cactus_ you later!”

The wall gave him a quiet, polite laugh. Sans laughed at his own joke but the conversation steered to other topics, like their interests and hobbies, and he had a sense that his light-hearted, joking demeanour didn’t impress the other so much.

_Ting ting!_

The fourth date was like talking to a wall.

A very wall-like, unresponsive wall.

Sans had to keep dishing out jokes in order to fill in the silence, because the person on the other side barely said a word. Of course, Sans was up to the challenge and was proud of every moment that he managed to earn a small, awkward giggle out of the absent wall. He had a whole arsenal of bad puns and knock-knock jokes stored in his mental library. The experience, however, felt like he was just telling jokes to himself like he always practiced them in his bedroom. Which was fine. Sans was cool with that, and thanked them for being a polite audience when the bell rung.

_Ting ting!_

He was feeling very relaxed and chill when he came to the fifth dating table. This was the second-last one and Sans was feeling pretty accomplished with himself. He’d practiced a lot of jokes today and, despite the varying responses, he was content with his own performance.

As was customary, he sat by the table and when the bell rang out the familiar—

_Ting ting!_

—he opened it up with a joke.

“Knock, knock!”

There was a slight pause, and then a gentle-sounding voice called out, “Who’s there?”

“Noah.”

“Noah who?”

“ _Noah_ good place to eat? Because I’m starving!”

There was the briefest of pauses where Sans was already starting to conjure his next joke, but his train of thought was abruptly derailed when he heard the burst of boisterous laughter from the other side.

San’s eyes widened as he stared at the screen, letting the noise flow through him. Ah. If he didn’t know any better… that sounded like… genuine laughter.

“Haha, oh my goodness,” said the other, their voice slightly breathless. “Oh dear. That’s clever!”

For some reason, the skeleton felt himself blushing slightly at the sincere compliment. “Ah, thanks.”

“I have one for you, then.”

Now Sans’s interest was _definitely_ piqued. “Okay,” he said, unable to stop the smile he felt stretching on his face. “Let’s hear it.”

“Knock, knock,” said the effeminate wall.

“Who’s there?”

“Justin.”

Sans’s grin grew wider. “Justin who?”

“ _Justin_ time for dinner, so I’m glad you’re hungry!”

Sans’s eyes crinkled and he barked out a laugh, his shoulders shaking with mirth. “Lady, you say _I’m_ clever, but you’re the clever one for _dishing_ an impromptu joke out like that!”

“Well, th-thank you—I’m glad I didn’t serve it out too _spoon_.”

“No, your timing was very _well done_ ; you don’t serve things _half-baked_.”

Hiccups of laughter interrupted the voice’s speech. “You don’t—You don’t even know me, so how can you know that?”

“Because your jokes are the _real_ _meal_.”

There was a howl of laughter from the other side and Sans felt incredibly stupid for grinning at a screen wall so widely. His imaginary heart was thumping more noticeably within his ribcage and he couldn’t help the dorky smile it produced. When the laughter began to soften, Sans realised that he didn’t want to stop listening to that beautiful sound.

“I have another joke for you. Knock, knock.”

A giggle. “Who’s there?”

“Ivor.”

“Ivor—Ivor who?” She sounded like she could barely stop herself from laughing pre-maturely.

“Ivor you let me in or I’m gonna climb over this wall!”

Sans heard her try to muffle herself, but the laughter bled out in gorgeous hiccups and bleats. Sans paused. Bleats? He grinned and sunk into his chair, feeling warm as he let her voice fall over him.

“I-I have another one,” the stranger said, earnest and excited. “Would you like to hear it?”

Sans wondered why she even had to ask. “Of course!”

“Knock, knock,” she said, without skipping a beat.

“Who’s there?”

“Cows go.”

“Cows go who?”

“Cows don’t go who, they go _moo_!”

Sans laughed and was quick to offer a return, “Knock, knock!”

“Who’s there?” was the immediate response.

“No one.”

“No one who?”

“…”

The non-response stretched on, and on, and on. Sans kept his mouth shut, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders trembling with the effort to not break the silence. It was dense and heavy and it continued on for an uncountable number of seconds, until suddenly, Sans began to worry that she didn’t get it and opened his mouth to explain—

But then he heard sounds coming from the other side of the screen. A small gasp of realisation, then little bubbles of incredulous laughter, restrained, trying to be held in, but as they both tried to adhere to their roleplay of ‘no one’, the more she couldn’t control herself and she began to laugh without abandon.

Sans… really, really liked her laughter.

_Ting ting!_

And he never disliked the chime of a bell so much.

Had they really been trading jokes and laughing for that long? It barely felt like a minute.

“Ah, I—” For the first time that night, Sans stumbled over his words. “I—I gotta go…”

“That’s alright, dear,” the other said, and Sans would be lying if he said his non-existent heart didn’t skip a beat at her calling him that. “Have fun on the last date! This was very fun—you’re a very _punny_ guy.”

Sans forced a smile, even though he knew she couldn’t see it. “And you’ve been very charming. You’ve really _goat-_ en my heart.”

The genuine, flustered laugh she let out was breathless. Breathtaking.

Sans really didn’t want to leave.

But someone was already at the entrance to the cubicle, looking at him with an eyebrow raised impatiently. Sans looked at the screen, opened his mouth, and wondered if he should give her his name, ask for hers, _anything_ , but in the last minute, he chickened out and instead rushed away, face flushing. But that didn’t discourage him very much. He entered the last cubicle of the night, grinning goofily at the wall, knowing that the person currently on the other side of the screen would be no contest to _her_.

He had high hopes, now. When this was over, he’d tell the organiser that he picked Date #5 and, he was hoping, she’d also pick Date #5 and they could get each other’s contact details (and name) from the company. Surely she liked him! She really seemed to enjoy his jokes—

and if a voice in the back of his mind hissed at him, telling him that she was probably charming to _everybody_ and why would a woman like her ever be interested in a short, nerdy skeleton like him, he ignored it.

He clung to the hope that they would be able to joke with each other again.

* * *

 

At the desk, at the end of the event, it was the women’s turn to give the company representatives a date number after the men had already left. Toriel gnawed on her bottom lip, looking at the piece of paper asking her if anyone interested her.

She thought of Date #5. He was the wittiest, funniest man she’d ever had the pleasure of speaking with. He sounded so nice and charming and cool. She was tempted to write down his number—

But then, her heart sinking, she told herself that it wouldn’t be right.

All they did was exchange jokes, and this was… this was a _dating_ event. They didn’t talk about anything serious, and Toriel...

She didn’t want to burden such a carefree, easy-going guy with her past.

Why would a guy like that ever be interested in dating a single mother? She couldn’t… She couldn’t put that sort of pressure on him, when he sounded so _free_. What made her think he was interested in _her_ , anyway? He must have charmed all the other ladies too.

On the evaluation sheet, a question asked her:

“Are you ready to take the plunge and potentially meet your monster mate?”

She left it blank and left.

* * *

 

A few weeks later, Toriel was sitting at a bus stop, a bench attached to a quaint little concave of glass to protect people from the elements. There were paper bags by her feet from the Sunday fruits and vegetable market, filled with a variety of the aforementioned products. She hummed to herself as she read her magazine, not really noticing the other communal goers waiting for the bus as she immersed herself in a private world. The murmurs and muted conversations and traffic noises didn’t bother her as she read through an article in Momster’s Weekly called ’10 Tips to Minimise Your Child’s Instinct To Maul.’

The only thing that interrupted her reading was her phone going off in her pocket. She gave a little jump in surprise, apologising to the irate man sitting beside her that she accidentally bumped, and answered the call.

“Hello?”

It was her child’s friend’s mother.

“Ah!” Toriel exclaimed, her smile stretching as she listened to a fellow mother’s words. “Oh, he misses me that much already? You’d think he’d want to spend more time playing with his friends! … Ah, haha, I see. Well, what can we do? Kids will be kids, I guess.” She laughed gently, quietly. “I’ll be over to pick them up soon. Mmhm. Thank you for calling. I’ll see you soon.”

She hung up her phone and put it back in her pocket, feeling bemused and flattered at the same time. Ah, her little one was so precious! Missing her already, and she’d barely been gone for four hours! She giggled to herself quietly, not wanting to disturb the people around her. She’d have to bake him some butterscotch-cinnamon pie later, for dessert.

She was interrupted from her plans when there was a sudden rapping of knuckles against glass to her right. She instinctively turned and saw a stout skeleton wearing a blue hoodie standing on the other side of the glass bus stop, his hand poised in the air in front of him. Toriel looked at him with a perplexed frown on her face and wondered why he was gazing at her so intently. She didn’t know him, so why did he want her attention…?

The skeleton man opened his mouth and then closed it. Toriel, taking pity on the guy, smiled at him in confusion. With her sitting down like this, they were at eye-level. He seemed to watch her smile and his hand lowered before it was shoved back into his jacket pocket. Then he asked her, calmly,

“Knock, knock.”

Toriel’s eyes widened. That voice…

She’d heard it before.

Unable to believe that this was happening, Toriel gaped and when the skeleton refused to look away, she managed to ask breathlessly, “Who’s there?”

“Otto.”

“Otto who?”

There was a beat, and then the skeleton’s face broke out into a wide, mischievous grin.

“ _Otto_ know, because I’m pretty sure we’ve met before.”

Try as she might, Toriel was unable to stop it. She hiccupped and her frame trembled with suppressed giggles, her eyes crinkling at the clever, clever man. It was a combination of his joke and the surprise and incredulousness of this meeting, and she held a hand over her mouth and laughed.

“I think we have,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

He walked around the glass wall that separated them and stood before her, a little to the side, but effective nonetheless. This was the first time they made direct eye contact, with no walls between them.

With a half-lidded gaze and a lazy smile, he bowed his head slightly at her. “So, my fair lady—what _is_ your name?”

She returned his smile politely and replied, “Toriel. And yours?”

“Sans.” He gave her a wink. “And I’m very glad to have officially met you—a skele- _tonne_ glad.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20+ jokes in this chapter. I am sorry-el.


	2. Wheels On The Bus Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, thank you for the wonderful response! Here's the second chapter for you all ;DD

* * *

 

Toriel’s face flushed and she laughed into her open magazine, partly to hide her flustered expression from the skeleton’s stare and partly to have something between them. She could barely process that this was happening. What were the chances that she’d actually meet him again? Here? It made her think of fate, and that made her want to laugh even more.

Life was really funny.

As the silence stretched on between them, the seconds ticking by far slower than their heartbeats, Toriel began to feel a little awkward. She didn’t know what to do, now. This was… weird, wasn’t it?

The skeleton—Sans—must have been feeling the growing tenseness too because he shifted his eyes away (finally) and scratched the back of his skull. Ah. Yes, this was definitely weird. Toriel’s face burned. Oh, she was so embarrassed! What was she thinking, feeling that spark of youthful wonder and surprise? This was absolutely _mortifying_! They ‘met’ at a _blind speed dating_ event! And instead of passing jokes through a screen door, they can now actually _see_ each other—

Toriel inwardly cringed and felt her heart sinking. She mustn’t be what he was envisioning _at all_. He might even be younger than her; he must be so embarrassed now, knowing that he was flirting with an old lady. Toriel began to feel horrid, the silence between them louder than the murmur of the public and the tyres of passing cars on the asphalt. How long had they been so quiet? A few seconds, minutes? Toriel couldn’t handle this anymore.

“S-So,” she said, clearing her throat and putting down her magazine. Her voice immediately drew his attention back to her and she tried not to be so embarrassed by how intense his gaze was. “Did you… um… succeed? In that… _endeavour_?” She whispered it like it was a scandalous thing, which, to her, it was. She cringed at her word-phrasing because could she _be_ any more dated?

He opened his mouth for a moment and closed it; if she didn’t know any better, he looked surprised. Then he smiled, his teeth a brilliant white, his eyes crinkling a little. He was laughing at her, wasn’t he. “If by ‘succeed’ you mean whether I was able to get a match with the woman I was interested in… then no, I didn’t.” He put his hands back into his pockets and rocked a little on his heels. “She didn’t give my number.”

“Oh…” Toriel adopted a pitying look and smiled at him gently. “I am sorry for you. I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t. You were a very, very charming man.”

The skeleton gave her a strange look that she didn’t know how to decipher and she wondered if she said something wrong. She straightened slightly in realisation and widened her eyes. “A-Ah, I mean, you still _are_ a very charming man! I’m sure you’re a very nice person. You, ah, seem very nice to me.” In her mind, she groaned at herself.

When was the bus coming? She wanted to escape this newfound hell she found herself in, where she was doing nothing but embarrassing herself and this friendly stranger. Why did he even talk to her? Oh, he must be regretting it now!

“Well, I wasn’t charming enough, I guess,” the skeleton drawled, shrugging. His smile was lax and had an aloof quality to it that Toriel found boyishly endearing. “How about yourself? Did you, ah… succeed?” His eyes were twinkling.

Toriel repressed a blush and answered politely, “I didn’t put any number down.”

Sans’s expression didn’t give anything away. “Oh, so no one interested you?”

It was harder to hold back the blush this time, but Toriel hoped that he didn’t notice. What a strange conversation they were having, indeed. “Well, I…” She shook her head and her shoulders slumped. She gave him a small smile that didn’t make her eyes shine any brighter. “I was only there because my friends had signed me up, and because my child persisted. I did not expect the night to come to anything."

There was a pause that Toriel was expecting and she was very much aware of how the skeleton man had straightened up and changed his expression to one of surprise. “You have a kid?” he asked, genuine and curious—it was like the words just stumbled out of his mouth without consent.

Toriel laughed lightly and the smile she gave him then was truer. “Yes,” she said, her eyes lighting up with extreme fondness. “They’re six years old. Their name is—”

But the screeching of heavy tyres and the stuttering of an engine interrupted her speech, along with the shock of people simultaneously standing and clamouring up to the curb. Oh! It was her bus! Toriel hastily turned away from the skeleton to pick up her paper bags of food. She was having a bit of difficulty due to the suddenness of the bus’s arrival (her fault—she hadn’t been paying attention, and now she had to rush), but the second bag she was about to pick up was suddenly picked up by another. Toriel looked at the skeleton in surprise and opened her mouth to question him.

He gave her a wink and said, “I’m catching this bus too. Let me help.”

Toriel blushed and smiled at him. “Thank you.” Ah—it’s been a while since the last time she was a recipient of chivalry. It was flattering.

They climbed into the bus together and unfortunately, them being the last ones in, there weren’t many seats available. But Toriel did spy a free aisle seat and she turned to Sans, saying helpfully, “There’s a free seat for you over there, if you’d like it.”

Sans gave her a disbelieving look in response. “You take it,” he said with a firm nod and a smile. “What gentleman would I be if I let a lady stand while I sat?” He winked again. “People would start accusing _skeletons_ for being _heartless_.”

Toriel’s eyes widened and she couldn’t help the snort that came out of her—at the same time, the bus lurched into motion without warning, and the laughter turned into a shocked yelp. She almost stumbled, but a firm, boney hand suddenly grabbed onto her elbow and kept her from falling. Her near-debacle earned her a few stares and her face flushed with embarrassment; she coughed and murmured, “Thank you, Sans.” For a skeleton nearly two heads shorter than her, he was surprisingly strong.

“You’re welcome, Tori.”

The old nickname made Toriel’s heart skip a beat; in the next split-second, she berated it for doing so. Goodness! She was too old for this. To hide her face from him, she turned and began walking down the bus aisle towards the free seat. She heard the slight rattling of bones behind her as Sans followed. She carefully sat down, smiling apologetically to the person at the window seat. She knew she was bigger than most monsters and she often took up a lot of space—she knew it bothered some people, and that made her uneasy. Not completely on the seat and taking up some of the aisle space, Toriel sat and made sure she wasn’t too close to her neighbour’s proximity. Resting one of her bags on her lap, she gave a small sigh and looked at Sans.

The skeleton was standing in the aisle, carrying her other bag in one arm and holding a handle that hung from the ceiling with his other hand for balance. The bus trotted on, hitting a few bumps here and there, but the occupants didn’t complain much. It was fairly quiet.

“Thank you again,” Toriel said, automatically whispering so that their conversation wouldn’t disturb others. “You’re quite the gentleman.”

“It’s fine,” he said with a shrug. Then he glanced down at the bag’s contents and grinned, locking eyes with her and saying boldly, “You _celery_ don’t need to keep thanking me.”

Some of the people in the bus who heard his joke gave him a sneaking glance of alarm. Toriel held a hand over her mouth and giggle-snorted, trying to be quiet and semi-succeeding. People glanced at her too, incredulous, because she certainly didn’t actually find that _funny_?

“ _Carrot_ you see that I just like helping you?” Sans rolled on, uncaring of the looks and simply focusing on the reddening of Toriel’s face. He was grinning, whether or not he was actually aware of it.

“ _Please_ ,” Toriel said in a strained whisper, tears glimmering in her eyes with the efforts not to bellow out in laughter.

“Please what?” Sans said mischievously. “Stop being so _radish_?”

“ _M-Mercy_.”

Sans gave a wink and a small laugh. “Come on, Tori. It’s _bean_ awhile—why don’t you tell me a joke?”

Toriel couldn’t look at him. She succumbed and buried her face in her hands, shaking her head. Her shoulders were trembling and, to the others in the bus, it might have looked like she was actually crying because of how embarrassing her companion was. But nothing could be farther from the truth. She breathed slowly, trying to control herself, and when she looked up again, her face was flushed, there was moisture glistening her eyelashes, and tears were threatening to spill over the corner of her eyes.

She couldn’t see it through her blurred vision, but Sans’s smile completely disappeared at the sight of her expression and the fond warmness in her gaze. He almost dropped the bag he was holding. He felt his whole body tingle and shut down, just for the briefest of moments, because he suddenly felt _numb_. It alarmed him slightly. That had never happened before.

“You,” she said, a little breathless—(Sans gulped)—“are a very cruel man.” Sans held his breath, and she finished with a wicked smile, “How am I supposed to compete with your jokes? Your puns, without a doubt, are the _cream of the crop_.”

Sans’s eyes widened and he gaped. Then, unlike her, he let out an unrestrained bellow of laughter, his whole frame shaking with mirth. His face flushed and he didn’t care if she saw it, if the whole bus was looking at him with disdain. He hadn’t felt this alive and electrified in a long, long time; his heart was beating so fast. This woman… was making him happy, and Sans was bewildered by that fact alone.

Toriel was surprised by his reaction too. She stared at him for a moment, at this small skeleton laughing without abandon, and instead of feeling embarrassed because this was a public place, she felt… thrill. Ah, they were being rude, weren’t they? For laughing so loudly? She apologised to everyone in her head as she giggled, her face warm. She didn’t regret this though. There was something about the skeleton’s freedom that really touched her. She couldn’t bear to scorn it.

The other bus-occupants didn’t share the same sentiments, however, if their silent groaning and eye-rolling and subtle shifting away from their vicinity had any indication. But neither of them noticed them. They had created a bubble for themselves in a full, rocking bus, and they weren’t even aware of it.

When the two calmed down, Toriel took this chance to glance at the window to check where she was. She was shocked to realise that she was close to her destination, and was disheartened about having to leave the skeleton’s company so soon. The fact that she felt sad about this surprised her in itself. Sans, noticing her wayward gaze, immediately caught on to what she was thinking and he felt a little subdued too.

“So,” he said, trying to sound casual and not like he had been wheezing out his lungs the previous minute, “will it be your stop soon?”

Toriel nodded. “Yours?”

“Ah—I’m a bit further along yet, yeah.”

Toriel noticed his uneasy shifting and glanced down. “Oh! Sorry, you must be tired of carrying that bag for so long! Let me—”

“No, it’s alright; you can have it back when it’s your stop,” he said with a smile, dodging her beseeching hand. There was a beat, and then he asked, “Do you, um…” His sentence was left hanging. He couldn’t make eye contact with her.

Toriel looked at him curiously and tilted her head to try and catch his gaze. He was looking a little blue. “Yes?” she asked patiently.

Sans glanced at her once, found that he couldn’t hold her stare, and quickly looked away, turning an even deeper shade of blue. “Would you like… to meet up again, sometime?”

“… Oh.” The small gasp of surprise was completely unintentional. Toriel, suddenly glad that he wasn’t looking at her, blushed deeply. Why did he want to see her again? He couldn’t actually be…

But as the thought was still developing, her mind harshly cut down it down. No. He couldn’t be. Who’d ever want to flirt with someone like her, much less want to…? No. He probably was just looking for a friend. Someone to share jokes with. Toriel’s blush faded and she smiled at Sans fondly, feeling warm. She wouldn’t mind a friend, actually. And even though this was only their second meeting, Toriel sensed no ill will from him; even if he did mean her harm, Toriel was confident in her power to protect herself. How much harm can a small skeleton do?

“I’d love to,” she said sincerely. She giggled at how quickly Sans had whipped his head up to look at her in surprise. She gave a nod of assurance. “I’d like to do this again.” She caught herself and laughed. “Well, maybe in a better location.”

Sans gaped at her. Then he grinned. Excitement bubbled in his non-existent belly like a furnace and he hastily took out his phone with his free hand. “What’s your number?” he asked, trying to sound chill but he thought the words came out quicker than he intended.

Toriel told him and he tapped in the digits. Just when he was about to give her his number, she suddenly turned away and looked outside. “Oh!” she exclaimed, interrupting him. “It’s my stop! Goodness, time flies so fast, doesn’t it?” The bus pulled over to the curb and, when it was at a complete stop, Toriel carefully stood up, Sans making way for her. She looked down at the skeleton and, after a pause, smiled and took her bag from him. “Goodbye, Sans. It was nice meeting you.”

Sans shoved a hand into his pocket and raised the other one in a half-hearted farewell. “Same, Tori.” He grinned. “I’ll see you in a place hopefully a little less _corn_ -gested.”

The communal-goers couldn’t stop their groans from being made aloud that time.

Toriel flushed again and they both shared a hearty laugh as she walked away, grinning widely. “Bye, Sans!” she couldn’t help but say again. She forced herself to quickly make her way out of the bus and stepped out. The doors immediately closed behind her and she instinctively turned, berating herself for being silly but unable to stop herself from searching the bus windows as the vehicle slowly began to drive away. She caught a glimpse of the top of a skull and a hand that poked out and blindly waved from the sea of people inside the bus. The action was so endearing that she laughed.

Sans the skeleton.

What an interesting fellow.

* * *

 

Sans exited the bus at the next stop, much to everyone’s relief. Even though the absence of his joking companion made him silent, they were still looking at him in a judging way. With their scathing looks, they looked as if Sans had scarred them for life. Sans hoped he did, because that thought was pretty hilarious.

He looked from side to side, checking the road for incoming traffic. He took out his phone and texted his newest contact: _why didnt the skeleton cross the road?_

He pocketed his phone and walked across the asphalt. On the other side, he sat down at the empty bus stop, relaxing himself to wait for the next bus to take him back.

His phone’s alert sound rang and he checked his new message.

_Why?_

Sans grinned to himself and replied: _because he had no guts_

A few minutes later, he got a reply:

_L-O-L_

Satisfied, he began to put his phone back into his pocket, but then it sounded again. There was another message from her.

_In case you did not know, L-O-L stands for Lots Of Laughter. My friend recently told me this when she upgraded my phone. Sincerely, Toriel._

Sans looked at the text incredulously and then burst out laughing. Wow. This lady. He chuckled. How could she be _this_ cute? He pocketed his phone, then looked up and gazed at the sky. His mind ran over the last hour and his smile stretched on his face until he started to laugh again.

Well, this day had been a pleasant surprise. He hadn’t actually thought he’d _meet_ her—

Sans remembered her name fondly. Toriel. It was a really pretty name. It suited her.

He thought back to all those weeks ago, when he had come home from that blind dating event. Papyrus had greeted him with a bombardment of questions about his night, who he met, whether he found ‘the one.’ Sans had deflected his brother’s questions with amusement and jolliness, telling him in a teasing manner that _he’ll see_. He had been so confident that they were going to get each other’s contact details in a few days. When he hadn’t, he realised that he was a fool.

And now, he kind of knew why.

Sans smile dimmed a little and his following quiet laugh was rather self-depreciating. Why would a woman like that be interested in a small, round skeleton like him? She was so… great. Fantastic. Beautiful. She was a _mother_ —

Sans slowly blinked and turned away from the sky, finding that the brightness of the blue kind of hurt his eyes.

A mother, huh? She’d be looking for someone… dependable and responsible, wouldn’t she? Sans wasn’t sure if he was able to _be_ that…

_Ting!_

He got another message, and he looked at his phone. It was from Toriel.

 _I have a joke for you too. Why did the skeleton want a friend? Because he was feeling BONEly!_ _Is that not funny? I hope you enjoyed it. Sincerely, Toriel._

He stared at the text for a moment and then closed his eyes. Sounds escaped his mouth unwittingly and his shoulders shook. Ah. He knows that joke, heard it countless times before, and yet—

Why was it still so endearing, coming from her? Even though she wasn’t here to deliver it in person, why did it sound as fresh as a daisy to him, new and wonderful? Sans didn’t quite understand how that was possible.

His bus came and he gingerly hopped on. It was far emptier than the other bus and he took a window seat, watching the scenery he’d previously missed due to his preoccupation with a certain goat monster.

Ah, it didn’t matter whether she was a mother or not. Whether he wasn’t really the type she was looking for or not. Sans was willing to take this wherever it went; he wouldn’t expect anything, but he’d enjoy the ride nonetheless. All he knew was that he liked her greatly, something he found very unusual since he normally didn’t attach himself to someone so quickly or easily. It made him curious and unwilling to stop… _whatever_ it was that was happening. All he had were good feelings.

It’ll be okay, just as long as he was still able to see her.

He grinned and pressed his forehead to the glass, perhaps in an attempt to cool off his face. After a beat, he took out his phone and began to text a reply to her.

_thats a good one tori. now listen to this one…_

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel too much for these dorks and their bad, bad, jokes. Granted, most of the blame is on me, but still.


End file.
